Birth Matters: So Does Motherhood

 I believe in birth.  I believe that women's bodies were made to birth naturally and that most women, if left alone medically and supported emotionally, will birth and that experience will be both powerful and transforming.  I believe that birth matters for not just the mother and the baby, but also for the family unit as a whole.  I can attest that had I not been successful in my VBAC last march, I would have had a different kind of recovery and our bonding as a family would have been very different and might well have been more difficult, but difficult is not impossible.

You see, I've been reading a lot of different blogs and articles lately about the importance of your birth on the bonding process and the impact your birth can have on your child for life.  Whether its the physical trauma of a csection on the body of the mother and the baby or the stress put on the spine of an infant when misaligned for long periods before a vaginal birth or the emotional trauma of a long separation after surgery for a mother and child or the emotional impact of the use of pitocin during labor, there is no doubt that birth has the power to profoundly affect the developing relationship between a mother and child.  However, I don't think birth defines that relationship.  It is the start of the relationship and for a time it might set a tone for the relationship, but it is not the final word on your relationship.

I don't care how rocky the start might have been between you and your child, how many "mistakes" you think happened in your birth, how many interventions happened in your birth, or how traumatic your birth was for you and/or your baby, as long as you are both alive at the end of it, there is still hope.  After a birth, comes motherhood and the choices you make as a mother matter even more than the choices you made in birth.  Not just the choices you make with your newborn, but the choices you make with your toddler, preschooler, and even your teen.  What is dynamic and awe inspiring and humbling about motherhood is that it is completely based on the unique, idiosyncratic relationship you have with your child.  Just as your relationship keeps evolving, so, too does your mothering skills and what is even more inspiring beyond that is that it is never too late to change.  Even if your children are adults, your relationship with them is still important and although it gets tougher as they get older, your role as their parent is never not important and is still impactful.  If you doubt me, think about how strong your emotions are about your own parents whether you have good, strong relationships with them or not.  Ambiguity and ambivalence are not descriptors that are often used for the relationships between parents and children at any age for good reason; the depth of our emotions (positive or negative) prove how important and primary the relationship is to us all.

So, if you feel distant, take steps to get closer.  If you feel like you are not bonded, do some bonding activities.  If you made choices you now regret in your birth, in your newborn parenting, in your young child years parenting, or even last week, let your child know about your regrets.  Let them know that you want to make a new choice now and then make it.  Every beginning is just that, a beginning.  It isn't the whole story.  It's never too late to make a new start.  Birth matters the way every introduction matters, but it's not the end.  If it was adoption would never work and we all know that adoption does.  Beautifully.  Take heart, mama.  Make a new story for you and your child with the choice you make today.

Thanks for reading,
Shawna

Five Reasons Why You Don't Want a "Good" Baby . . . at least not all the time!

Few things frustrate me more than being asked if I have a "good" baby. I know that most people are wondering if I have a baby who sleeps through the night/naps well, doesn't cry often, keeps himself entertained, etc. but it irks me that somehow my baby isn't "good" if he doesn't fit those parameters.  Especially since those traits may make a baby more convenient, but they have nothing to do with how "good" of a person that baby is.  Just because a baby might have more needs than another or is more expressive about those needs, it doesn't mean that baby is "bad." In fact, it just might be better to have a baby who is decidedly inconvenient and not "good."

1.  Babies who aren't "good" wake up a lot . . . and that makes them less vulnerable to SIDS.

Babies are designed to wake up often for good reason.  SIDS is actually related to a baby's inability to rouse easily or detect a build up of carbon dioxide in their blood.  Now, the general mainstream medical consensus is that babies are safest on their backs in their own beds, but other medical experts have suggested that babies may be safest when with co-sleeping with their sober, non-smoking mothers.  In fact, SIDS rates have continued to stay low despite a rise in safe co-sleeping.  This might have to do with the increase in breastfeeding rates among co-sleeping mothers as much as anything else, but the fact remains that while "good" babies might let their mothers have more uninterrupted sleep, babies who aren't so good (or aren't good all the time) actually demonstrate that they have a good arousal instinct and that is a definite positive!  Besides, there are sweet, snuggly times to be had when babies are awake, sleepily nursing, and snuggling with you that mamas of babies who sleep all the time, just don't get.

2.  Babies who aren't "good" cry a lot . . . and that means they are attached enough to want to communicate and believe that you will respond to their cries.

We all know people who are more verbal about what is going on with them than others.  Babies are just little people.  So, some of them will cry more than others because some of them just have more they want to say.  Some babies also just have more to communicate.  No matter how much or how little your baby cries at night or during the day, it is good because your baby is communicating (even if it doesn't seem that way at two a.m.).  The fact that your baby consistently is communicating with you about his or her needs is a positive thing.  It proves that your baby trusts you enough to tell you about what's going on with her/him.  By responding to your baby's cries, you are forming a trusting, attached relationship with your baby.  This might not mean your baby stops crying right away or that your baby cries less, but it does mean that your baby believes that you are going to respond to his or her needs.  When that baby grows up this will translate into words.  For example, my eldest baby cried a lot, and now, when he is sick, he still talks a lot.  He's just the kind of person who feels things very strongly and he needs to talk about his emotions to process them.  Because of the relationship we've been forming since his very first newborn baby cries, we have a very open communication line and I hope that honest communication continues for years to come.

3.  Babies who aren't "good" don't just lay/sit around and play with their toys . . . they are curious about their world and they want to explore it.

We've all had those moments when we've wanted to just put our babies down and have them keep themselves busy while we finish dinner/pick something up/whatever, and sometimes they may let us, but some babies mostly use that time to get into things, practice their crying communication with you, and generally cause a ruckus.  However, these are all good things!  A baby who isn't very interested in the world around them or who doesn't want to test that you will come running at least part of them time, is not a baby who is very interested in the outside world and that lack of curiosity probably isn't their best trait.  I imagine that if we could interview the mothers of most of the world's greatest inventors, innovators, and entrepreneurs, we would probably discover that as babies and small children they were incredibly curious and often got themselves into some scrapes because of it.  Whenever my sons are driving me crazy testing my communication line with them from the next room, I just remind myself that Pavlov's mother was probably his first and best test subject.

4.  Babies who aren't "good" don't stay in their car seats all the time; they insist on being held/worn and seeing the world from a higher level.

Risks of leaving your baby in their car seats frequently and shopping with your baby in his/her car seat aside, babies who are not kept in their car seats all the time actually tend to do a little better because they are held more often and get worn in a carrier.  In fact, God bless babies who aren't "good" all the time because they are the reason babywearing was invented and the benefits of babywearing are amazing.  From heart rate/physiological benefits for newborns to social interactions/connections with toddlers, your babies are made to be in your arms or worn and nothing but good comes from it . ..even if it seems inconvenient for you and what you want to get done at times.

5.  Babies who aren't "good" don't listen to what "they" tell you about parenting, they make you learn to listen to your heart and do more research.

You know who "they" are.  "They" are the ones who were asking you whether or not your baby was "good" to begin with.  "They" tell you you need to do XYZ to make your child into a convenient "good" baby or "they" will congratulate you when your baby doesn't cry or make a fuss, but give unsolicited advice when they do.  Babies who aren't "good" don't give a flying fruit what they say and if you let them, they will teach you not to care, either.  Babies who aren't "good" push you to examine who you are as a parent and as a person.  They teach you to make real connections to them and they become the catalyst for you to learn more about them, parenting, and yourself as a person.  Babies who aren't "good" push you to become better than you've ever been before and they teach you where your limitations are.

Babies who aren't "good" all the time are my favorite kind of babies!

Thank you for reading and kiss your "not good all the time" babies for me!
Shawna

Sleeping Like a Baby

When pregnant with Baby #1, Dear Hubby and I researched cribs and crib mattresses as if world peace hinged on our decision. Of course, we also had a bassinet for our room, where we figured she might sleep for "a few weeks, maybe" until we moved her across the hall to her own room, because . . . that's what parents do, that's what parents need, that's what babies do, that's what babies need.

Baby #1 (aka, Agent E) had a different idea.

I'll spare you the saga of long nights sitting up with E, attempt after failed attempt to get her back in that bassinet. How I swung back and forth between letting her "really" wake up (i.e., get mad enough to start crying) and grabbing her immediately at the first whimper. How it took me weeks (months? It's a blur now.) to realize that her night time needs were not going to go away, and I needed a sustainable plan for dealing with them while maintaining my own sanity.

Someone had given me a copy of a very nice sounding book about infant/child sleep. I won't mention it specifically, but let's just say it implied that following its recommendations would not only lead to "better" sleep all around, but also health and happiness. So promising! And then I actually read it.

Truthfully, it made me queasy. Forcing baby into a strict schedule to fit your needs (not hers), solitary sleep in a dark room with no contact presented as the only option, listening to your baby cry for up to an hour, even if she made herself throw up. I had a hard time believing (to put it mildly) that people read this and think, yeah, that sounds about right.

I knew there had to be another way. I wandered the "baby and child care" section at the nearest bookstore looking for something to pop out at me. I came home with a copy of The Baby Book by Dr. Sears. I began reading it a little at a time during E's nursing sessions (which were plentiful, and new-mom confusing in their own right, another post). 

Holy light-bulb moments. I nodded along so much with the text, at one point I might have been mistaken for a Breastfeeding Bobblehead.

The thing is, I hadn't considered sleep "options" at all while pregnant. In my mind, there was only one thing to do: solo sleep, bassinet to crib as quickly as possible, baby in her own room basically from the get-go. I didn't even realize there were choices: bedsharing vs. co-sleeping (no; they're not the same), crib in the same room vs. crib in a separate room, starting out the night in one place and moving on the first wake up. It seems ridiculous to me now (and even a tad embarrassing) that it never occurred to me that I could do whichever one of these worked for us as a family and it would be fine.

Still, I hesitated. If I bought a bed rail, did that mean I couldn't change my mind and move her out of our bed later if it weren't working? If I asked Hubby to dismantle the crib and refashion it as a sidecar, did that mean I had to commit to this idea long term?

I know a huge part of the problem I had reconciling my choices at first was that conventional wisdom about babies and sleep led me to think in absolutes. I was confronted from every angle by if . . . then statements. If you bring baby into your bed, then she'll never want to leave. If you don't teach her to sleep on her own, then she will depend on you to fall asleep forever. If you always nurse to sleep, then she will always expect it.

The major flaw in this logic is that it assumes babies (and children, and parents for that matter) are inflexible and stagnant. This is simply not true. Babies' needs change. Parents' needs change. Everything changes.

The other flaw is that it imposes an unnatural sense of urgency on a natural development. The belief that simply waiting it out is not good enough. That you need to take action. Speed things up.

The truth is, it is okay to wait. It is okay to allow your baby (or toddler, or preschooler) to ease into solo sleep following his or her own timeframe. Really.

As for my little Agent E? The one whose newborn night time needs caused me to re-evaluate? She'll be seven soon. Contrary to what well-meaning folks tried to warn me about, she sleeps well, all night (barring any illness or nightmares), in her own bed, without coercion. Oh, and she weaned a long time ago, mostly of her own accord. As all children eventually do, she gave up nursing to sleep, she no longer needed me to be near her all night, and she learned to not just tolerate but actually love her own bed in her own room . . . when she was ready.

Thanks for reading and have a blessed day.

p.s. How serendipitous that as I was drafting this post (and puttering, ahem) a status from SortaCrunchy (awesome blog, BTW) came through my newsfeed about a Facebook group, "Wait It Out" Method Support (Toddler/Infant Sleep). 

Feminism and Attachment Parenting: It Can Work

Twenty years ago, or maybe it's closer to fifteen, in any case, once upon what feels like a lifetime ago, an ex-boyfriend and I had an argument about whether a woman should stay home after having children. He argued that women should stay home, because it was better for the children; a mother could give children an emotional security that no one else could. I argued that it was sexist to say a woman “should” do anything, and that women should not be the ones to give up their career or work outside the home just because they happen to be the ones having children. A father or other trusted care giver could just as easily provide the love, care and emotional security children required.

In hindsight, the fight was stupid, simply because it was theoretical. We were still in college. We were too young to even be talking about the prospect of having children. Even when we were out of college, the topic of living together never came up. I never expected a proposal. Now I know enough to know it doesn't make sense to talk about scenarios that aren't real or on the soon-to-be-horizon. As they say, it's like worrying about problems that you don't even have yet.

But at the time, I was young and oversensitive, I took his views as a personal attack, as if he was saying, what I wanted for myself individually was less important than my potential child needs, as if he was suggesting that women (me) not just take off a few years or the first year of each child's life off from their careers, but give them up permanently, and to fail to do this, made them a bad mother. Whether he was actually saying this or not, I made the point that women who have something – like a career – that nurtures them, make better and far more nurturing mothers, in addition to demonstrating to their children of both genders that they can pursue and fulfill the careers of their dreams.

At the time, I thought anyone saying that women SHOULD stay home was sexist, and that anyone who suggested that a baby's needs were more important than a mother's was especially sexist, because such a view devalued women, their potential, their skills, and their lives. I thought for a mother to be a good respectable mother, she had to put herself first. That if she took care of herself, and enjoyed her life, it would only benefit her children, whereas an exhausted woman who gave everything, never got anything for herself, would only end up resenting her children and feeling like she was constantly being taken advantaged of. For the record, I do think some degree of this is true. And yes, I realize, in all fairness to my ex-boyfriend, he wasn't saying women are a dishrag who should be completely used up by their children.

At least I hope not. (Actually, what I hear from his mother, whom I am still friends with, is that he is a very loving, committed, hands on, and patient parent.)

I think I was all of nineteen when we had this fight. I don't know for sure, and I'm unwilling to go through old journals (because there are a lot – this ranting habit of mine is hardly new) to find the exact date. But it was the early 90s. I had read Naomi Wolf's The Beauty Myth and Carol Gilligan's Ina Different Voice. My copy of Susan Faludi's Backlash was dogeared, with a spine that was so cracked, I had to tape it back together. I subscribed to Ms. Magazine. Gloria Steinem and Hillary Rodham Clinton had told me I could have it all and that I was entitled to it. Poor ex-boyfriend, given all the reading I had been doing, it was just an argument waiting for an opportunity to assert itself.

When I became a mother a good decade and half later, I thought of this fight often. I found myself wondering what my 19 year old feminist self would say about my mothering self. When I was 19, I had wanted to teach college English. I wanted tenure. I wanted to write books that won the Pulitzer. By the time I got pregnant, I had taught college English, but I no longer wanted tenure. In fact, I walked off campus the last time before my husband's job took us to LA, and realized with a startlingly clarity that I never wanted to teach again. While I had written books, they hadn't won the Pulitzer because they hadn't been published (yet...). My husband and I moved to LA, and I sat my pregnant-bellied self in my new found spot at Ground Zero of My Life.

And when I gave birth to my son (Yes, naturally. My fear of needles is bigger than my fear of pain.) I, like many parents before me, melted. While I had some anxiety about mothering, simply because my own mother didn't seem to enjoy it much, it disappeared the second he was born. I was startled to discover a few weeks, and then a few months later, that I had never felt happier. Given that my son literally nursed every twenty minutes, it's entirely likely, I was just high on oxytocin, with fresh new hormones releasing every single time he latched. Nevertheless, he was an easy and happy baby, as long as he nursed. Which means, I was one of “those” women that Elisabeth Badinter writes about in The Conflict and that the latest issue of Time magazine points to, with its cover asking, "Are You Mom Enough?"

In my new motherhood, I was surprised how often I found myself questioning what my younger feminist self would say about my mothering self, and wondering if she felt like she had failed as a feminist, and if I could still even call myself one. I talked to myself a lot about this point. I even joked at mom's group and with other mothers that honestly, I have failed at everything and most of my ideal career choices in my life, breastfeeding is just the weird thing that came easily to me. It's just my bad luck that I can no longer make a living as a wet nurse. (And if I had known that this would be the one thing I was good at, maybe I should have pursued it earlier?). In the end though, I would end the conversation with myself by concluding that what I had been arguing for all along was that women have choices, and that those choices be equally valued and respected.

Consequently, what has come to be these ridiculous debates or battles or in more polite words, conversations, about Attachment Parenting and if it devalues women, has continued to hit nerve after nerve of mine. Badinter is hardly the first. Ayelet Waldmen makes a few jabs in Bad Mother. Judith Warner in Perfect Madness; Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety argues against the pressure to breastfeed for at least a year and the “boundary breakdown” of attachment parenting, and Lisa Bloom in Think takes a two paragraph time out from arguing against the dumbing down of American women to argue against co-sleeping, because she thinks sleeping next to one's child causes one to lose sleep.

No, actually. When you co-sleep, you roll over, nurse and go back to sleep (if you've woken up). When your baby is in a crib down the hall, you wake up, walk down the hall, sit in a rocking chair and nurse, then after your baby is back asleep, you walk back down the hall, go back to sleep, only to repeat the entire process two hours later. Because your sleep is so physically disrupted, you can't help but be exhausted.

See? Nerve. I try to rise above these weird assumptions about attachment parenting, and I keep taking the bait.

And all these books make valid points and are worth reading (while the Badinter reads quickly, you could probably still save the time and find a nice summary. It's not like it hasn't been written about ad nauseam.) Still, I can't help it. I want to shout at these women, “You know what devalues a woman and mother? FATIGUE!”

I understand - having thought similar thoughts as a 19 year old feminist – the concerns of these women and the people who feel compelled to turn attachment parenting into some weird thing it's not. It's easy to fear falling so head first into mothering that you risk losing yourself. It's happened to many an innocent woman before. 

But I have to question the women who continue to point to certain choices women are making as mothers and asserting that those choices are causing them to be devalued as individuals. I have to question the notion of not keeping our children at arm's length makes us less feminist or equal. Because I don't actually think the issue is attachment parenting or any other form of parenting. Most parents of my current parenting generation are fairly clear that like many parents before us, there will be things we do as parents that work, and that there are things we do that don't work as well. All of us are making the best choices we can with what we have, and the choices we're making line up with our values, who we know ourselves to be, and who we know our children to be. We're all interested in doing what works for us, our children and our nightly sleep. There are more parenting resources than ever before in history. It's not like we're not doing our homework.

Rather, I think the issue is that motherhood isn't valued the way we'd like to think it is. It's easy to resent anyone who recommends breastfeeding at least a year because employers aren't set up to support mothers who breastfeed a year with paid maternal leave. Of course working women who resort to bottles and formula feel pressured to breastfeed: their doctors are recommending they do something they can't easily do. With work days getting longer, not shorter, it isn't exactly fun to stick your breasts into a machine inspired by efficiently milking commercial dairy cows while you think of your baby that you haven't seen in 10 hours. And not that breastfeeding mothers are off the pressure hook either, with breastfeeding rates at 30% after three months and 13%, I can't say I agree with Badinter that the “Tyranny of Breastfeeding” has accomplished its goal. Rather, a woman breastfeeding her child the recommended length, more often than not, is asked when she'll quit, why she hasn't quit, isn't it weird, and if not, when will it be? The tyranny of breastfeeding has hardly normalized what pediatricians around the world recommend for all children.

I do appreciate the conversations women are starting, because it's clear dissatisfaction is afoot. But instead of taking our dissatisfaction out on each other and various parenting choices, which are nobody else's business anyway, why not instead work towards something that will make parenting better for everyone? Because let's be honest, the current work culture doesn't make it easy for parents of either gender to be good parents, whether it's an utter lack of paid sick days and family and medical leave or a work environment that demands employees work at least 12 hours at a time, and look down on them if they don't.

I am tired of women being women's harshest critics. It's hardly new. Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Women was published in 1792. Her sharpest critics were women. The reasoning behind it is rather simple. As my midwife told me in my first pregnancy, I would never have to even utter a word about my parenting (or life) choices, because the sheer fact that I was doing it differently than someone else would have that someone else feel judged or threatened or like I thought they or their way wasn't good enough, when in reality, it has nothing to do with them at all. Surely, in addition to all the rights we've earned since 1792, we've also gained enough security in our selves and our choices that we can not take each other's approaches so personally?

Badinter and Time magazine seem to think not. I disagree.